Definitely me too.
On ASD: the only one in the extended family with a formal ASD diagnosis is DS, but on reading up on it, it is really, really obvious that my whole family is on the spectrum, including me - and though I am never going to get a formal diagnosis I have finally learnt how to be kinder to myself and understand that I am not actually as hopeless at being a person as I believed for many years.
On reading; when I was younger I read simply everything I could lay my hands on. Often one or two books a day, even on school days.
I read fiction and non-fiction, simply everything. Science fiction and fantasy (Asimov, Heinlein and Ursula LeGuin were my favourites), unending numbers of detective stories (read every single Agatha Christie book, though the idea of reading even one of them now makes me shudder), action stories like stuff by Alistair MacLean and Desmond Bagley, but then there were also non-fiction books - irrespective of whether it was a history of Korean dynasties or an introduction to Freudian theory, or about transactional analysis, or a biography of someone, I read the lot.
The only thing I couldn't stomach was love stories, which just seemed trite and utterly dull.
And now...well, I don't read most fiction.
I try sometimes. Mostly I can't do it. Usually, not far in, I get either the feeling that it is formulaic - I KNOW what will come next and I get the feeling that life is short, and why should I waste it reading this? (I don't watch TV or movies either, on pretty much the same grounds).
Or, knowing more about things in general, there is some factual mistake (often huge), that puts me off. My younger self wouldn't have known it was wrong, and maybe if I had picked up on it, I wouldn't have been bothered (???)
As an example, I remember borrowing a detective story from the library about 15 years back. It was set in Chinatown in San Francisco, but about a quarter of the way into the book, the name of a "Chinese" shop is given in "Chinese characters" there in the middle of the English text. However, the author has actually given the name of a Korean business, in the Korean alphabet. I used to teach Chinese, and, I can read enough Korean letters to know Korean when I see it. That was it. Book closed, returned to the library, and never going to read anything by that author again.
Similarly, I actually tried to read a historical romance a while back. The author had the heroine gamboling around in a forest in a bright green dress - at a time when bright green dye had not yet been invented (and when it was invented a few decades after that, it poisoned the wearers of the clothing with the arsenic it contained) Again, book closed at that point and back to the library. A strong feeling of: why should I be wasting my life on this?
Apart from that type of thing, I don't know - is it age, or experience, or not needing it any more as I learnt what I needed to from it, or is it from having read so much earlier that it all just seems more of the same? In tragedy, the hero will die, in action stories the hero will win. If there is an enemy, he/it will usually be unnuanced and predictable. If this person in the narrative dies, or that person falls in love, why should I care?
And yes, now I mostly read non-fiction: books about the history of disease and plagues and how that has shaped the world today, or the history of human evolution, or commonly held misconceptions about dieting, or how trees communicate, or the history of the pigments used in painting. Much, much more fun.